


Bereft

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-02
Updated: 2009-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam attempts to deal, after Madison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bereft

They go back to the motel, and Dean packs up. Sam sits on the bed and stares at the wall.

“Hey,” Dean shakes his shoulder after a few minutes. “Time to go.”

Sam comes back from wherever he’s been and nods.

He stares out the window of the Impala, his mind numb. This was his fault. He couldn’t save her. He killed everyone he came into contact with. His mother, Jess, that hunter in Michigan, and now Maddy.

All he has left is Dean. Dean, who was always there, who always looked out for him, who was willing to kill Maddy so he wouldn’t have to do it. Who promised to kill him, if it came to that, despite the fact that he’d be taking on the same pain Sam now knew.

They stop after a couple hours and check into another motel like all the others, cheap, run-down, with lumpy beds and peeling paint.

Sam flops facedown on the bed, the springs creaking.

Dean leaves him alone for awhile, unpacking, taking out his guns and putting them within reach. Sam dozes off to the sound of his brother moving around the room.

He wakes out of formless dreams when Dean pokes him in the side. “Hey. You should eat something.”

Sam sits up, feeling a hundred years old. “’M not hungry.”

Dean’s glance becomes stern. “Sammy…”

“I’m serious, Dean!”

Dean holds up his hands and nods. He looks like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure whether he should. After a moment he murmurs, “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

The grief he’s been trying to suppress suddenly rises up and chokes him. “Dean…”

He rises from the bed and wraps his arms around his brother. Dean stiffens for a moment, since they don’t _hug,_ but then he relaxes.

Sam cries on his shoulder for a long time as Dean rubs his back and mutters, “Shh, Sammy, it’s OK, it’ll be OK.”

It won’t. He destroys everything he touches. He almost destroyed Dean not long ago.

Without thinking about what he’s doing, Sam kisses Dean softly.

Dean stiffens again, and sucks in a breath. When Sam keeps kissing him, he pushes him away gently.

“Sam. We can’t.”

Sam takes a shaky breath and nods, pulling away.

“You’ve been shaken up; you’re not thinking clearly, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Sam doesn’t answer.

***

They go out to a diner and order cheeseburgers and fries, and Sam has about six beers too many, then they head back to the motel.

Dean hadn’t turned away from him, but he didn’t understand either. He thought this was some sort of temporary grief-induced insanity. He didn’t know how deep it ran, that Sam had wanted him since before he left for college.

He’d met Jess, and been happy with her, but then Dean showed up again and told him Dad was in trouble and he left with him, and it all came rushing back.

Dean had said they couldn’t because he wasn’t thinking clearly... _Stop it. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t want to. At least he didn’t take off._

It takes Sam a long time to fall asleep, and when he finally does his dreams are uneasy, a mixture of green eyes and brown, teeth and claws and skin.

_Dean stood before him. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_He picked up the gun lying on the table and held it out to him._

_“Put that down.”_

_“You have to do it, Sammy. There’s no other way.”_

_“I can’t.” He’s lost everyone else, he can’t lose Dean too…_

He’s half-woken by a warm weight settling next to him, arms wrapping around him. Some part of him registers _Dean_ and the dream shifts to something innocuous.

***

When he wakes up, Dean’s spooned behind him, his face buried in Sam’s neck, one arm around his waist. After a moment of confusion, he remembers. The nightmare. He must have been making some sort of noise or thrashing around or something, and Dean had known.

He registers two facts at that moment. One, he’s hard, and two, there’s something poking into his hip.

 _It doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t have any control over it, it’s just what happens, it doesn’t have anything to do with me._ Dean’s young, after all, and asleep next to someone. Of course he’d end up with morning wood.

He tries to shift away, but Dean mumbles something and his hold tightens.

Sam sighs. He manages to shift around so he’s facing his brother and looks at him.

Dean’s still asleep, his skin warm and his hair slightly mussed. Sam reaches out a hand and runs it through his brother’s hair and Dean sighs.

He can’t help it; he leans down and kisses Dean lightly, and Dean, still half-asleep, kisses him back.

Dean pulls away, his eyes open now, and repeats, “We can’t.”

“Why not?” _Is it because he doesn’t want to, or because he thinks I don’t?_

“Because you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I do! Dean, I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen!”

Dean takes hold of his jaw and stares into his eyes for a long moment, looking for something. He must find what he’s looking for, because he suddenly grins. “Man, we are beyond fucked up.”

Sam grins back and kisses him again, hard and possessive. Dean tries to take control of the kiss, but Sam won’t let him, pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth almost brutally.

He pulls off and moves to suck at Dean’s neck, and Dean whines, and it’s the hottest thing Sam’s ever heard. He stays there long enough to leave a bruise, a tangible mark of what they’re doing, then licks down the center of Dean’s chest, moving under the blankets.

When Sam is level with Dean’s waist he palms him through his pajamas and Dean groans and thrusts up into him. Sam pulls down Dean’s pajama bottoms and just looks for a moment, letting his breath ghost over Dean’s erection. He hears Dean choke out, “ _Fuck!_ ” as he wraps his lips around the head of Dean’s cock, and Dean tries to force him down but he resists again, moving down inch by torturous inch, holding Dean’s hips down and feeling them jerk against his hold.

When his nose brushes Dean’s stomach Sam hollows his cheeks and sucks, and Dean’s fingers fist in his hair, hard enough to hurt, but Sam doesn’t care. He pulls off after a moment to lick at the tip and Dean whines again.

The only thing that could make it better was if he could see Dean’s face as he took him apart. It’s been awhile since he sucked cock, but he experimented a little in college, like everyone, before he met Jess. Judging from Dean’s reaction, he hasn’t lost his touch.

He moves down again, using his teeth, just lightly, and Dean moans, “ _Sam,_ ” and thrusts into his mouth, and Sam almost comes from that alone.

Dean tugs on his hair, trying to pull him away, and Sam can tell from the noises he’s making that he’s close, but he only hums and sucks harder, and Dean comes down his throat with a broken noise.

Sam moves up again, wiping the sweat off his forehead, and looks at Dean. He looks absolutely wrecked, mouth open and panting, skin flushed, eyes glazed and fucked-out and Sam allows himself a moment’s smugness before he leans down to kiss Dean again.

And then Dean flips him over and yanks his pajamas down, his hand closing around Sam’s cock and he closes his eyes for a moment. But Dean’s paying him back for teasing him earlier, stroking too slow, too light, and _fuck,_ he’s never been this hard in his fucking _life,_ and he’s so _close,_ but it’s not enough.

“You _bastard!_ ”

Dean chuckles low in his chest and smirks at him. “Something you want, Sammy?”

For a moment, just one moment, Sam’s tempted to not give him the satisfaction of begging, but then Dean licks his lips and he’s lost. “God, Dean, harder, faster, please!”

The smirk widens. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And Dean speeds up his thrusts, fisting him harder, and _twists,_ and Sam comes so hard his vision grays out for a moment.

He collapses to the bed, as Dean, _Christ_ , licks his fingers clean, then pulls a tissue from the box on the bedside table and cleans him off.

“What now?” _God, I can’t believe I did that._ We _did that. I had sex with Dean. With_ Dean.

Dean shrugs. “Same as usual. See if there’s anything weird going on, take a look.”

“No, I mean, what about…” he waves a hand at the two of them.

“We’re not talking about this,” Dean says, turned away from him so he can’t see his expression.

Panic and guilt suddenly tear through him with icy claws. _He regrets it. Of_ course _he regrets it, I’m his_ brother, _for God’s sake, what the fuck is_ wrong _with me?_

He moves to swing his legs off the bed, but Dean grabs him and turns him around.

“We’re not _going_ to talk about this,” he says firmly, and kisses Sam again.

Sam’s last thought before his brain shuts down again is that he can live with that.


End file.
